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Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Whispers of Home by April Kelley

I asked April what inspired her to write t he story, this is what she had to say:

I had this story idea years ago when
a friend of mine dated this guy that always dressed like a cowboy when we all
would go out to the clubs. This guy was so gorgeous but clearly a player. Not
that my friend saw this in him they. He was to enamored with the guy to see him
for what he was. Anyway, the guy was the basis for Travis and Travis was the
really reason I wrote the story. Or rather, I wanted to give my friend a
happier ending that what he had I guess.

The actual idea of the story kind of
formed around Travis and Jaron. I'm a character writer mostly. Characters come
to me first and the plot sort of happens as I'm writing. That's certainly what
happened with this story.

The series I idea didn't come until
after I wrote more about Jackson. His story will be coming later this year.

Author Bio:

Born and
raised in Southwest Michigan, April lives with her husband and two kids.She has been an avid reader for several
years.Writing her first story at the
age of ten, the characters in her head still won't stop telling their
stories.If April isn't reading or
writing she can be found outside playing with a farm full of animals or taking
a long walk in the woods.

All Jaron
McAllister wanted to do was get out of the small town where he grew up. After
being bullied all his life for being gay, that’s exactly what he does. He
loses all contact with everyone in the town of Pickleville, including
his emotionally distant mother and the only true friend he ever had.

When his best friend and mother of the child they share,
get murdered he knows he must ask for help in the one place he thought he
would never go back to. Coming back home isn’t easy and finding himself
attracted to the town man-slut spells disaster. Travis Heath isn’t at all what
his reputation suggests though.

Categories:
Contemporary, Erotica, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance

Excerpt:

Jaron looked through the window of the diner from across
the street. His mother’s hands gripped a mug, probably full of coffee. Jaron
thought he was meeting Brian but apparently Brian had other plans. Brian
always did think he knew best, the bastard. Jaron was fully aware his oldest
friend had set this up, probably getting in touch with Gloria McAllister right
after Jaron had called the first time, telling her when Jaron would be here.
Brian had never understood that the relationship Jaron and Gloria had wasn’t
like the relationship Brian had with his own father.

Looking at his mom through the glass was like watching a
movie of her. He had never felt the connection with his mom that he thought he
should, even as a small child. Maybe that had been his fault. That he wasn’t
quite what she wanted in a son and therefore kept just enough distance to make
it seem like miles. Which was why he was confused she had come instead of
Brian.

When he was eighteen years old he had thought he left
because of a burning desire to fit in somewhere, because he certainly hadn’t
fit in very well in Pickleville. He needed that connection to another human
being, that knowing he was so important to another human being they just
couldn’t live without him. Ironically, it was a five year old boy he felt
unconditionally connected too. Now that he knew the unconditional love a
parent felt for their child, he wondered at his mother’s parental instincts.

He stood on the sidewalk in front of what used to be a
place called the Hobbyist’s Dream but was now an Asian market. He noticed the
place was empty when he had arrived but his back was turned now, his complete
attention on the woman in the window. He thought the Asian place probably
wouldn’t have lasted long back in the day. Who knows now? The diner was the
only one in town, or was until they put in a McDonald’s by the highway. Jaron
hadn’t realized that things in this town could change until the bus passed by
the fast food restaurant. Somehow he expected everything to be the same, as if
time would stand still just because he didn’t feel any different now that he
was here.

Standing here, he felt that maybe he left to put the
physical miles between himself and the only parent he had ever known. He had
never fit in with her either.

He felt a tug on his hand and looked down at sweet blue
eyes. This small boy was as dependent on the next few minutes and the woman in
the window as he was. “I’m thirsty,” Bobby said, around the thumb in his
mouth.

“Me too. Let’s go.” Jaron stepped off the curb and onto the
street, gripping onto Bobby’s hand just a little tighter, pausing for a car,
and then continuing until he came within inches of his mother, the glass the
only barrier now. She looked directly at him, showing more emotion in those
few seconds than he had ever seen from her during his entire childhood. He
looked away and walked through the door of the restaurant.